We are gliding under the Witt Penn Bridge in Jersey City. There on the north side naked trestles await the next generation bridge. The thunder we hear riding under the PATH train bridge! We are clear soon enough to see the commuter train exit the bridge heading west to Harrison and Newark.
How many times have I been on that PATH train while we stopped as the bridges were drawn to let some tall masted ship pass by?
From where we stood, sardine-like, in the tin can rail car, we could only ever guess at the holdup outside.
How many times have riders looked north from those trains and guessed at the real name of Fraternity Rock rising from the swamps.